


Fireflies

by orphan_account



Category: Frankenstein & Related Fandoms, Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Adam is snarky and too independent, Blood, Infection, M/M, Medic wants them to get their shit togther, Robert is tired, nothing intense, one of his stitches gets infected, pus, sepsis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 11:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The easy look in Robert’s eyes told Adam everything he needed to know. That he was forgiven, that he would be taken care of, that they would continue on, and work through each hurdle together. Robert would not force him to speak on his fears until he was naturally capable, and he would not allow him to drown.Adam smiled, dark brow furrowing; he finally had a family.“Indeed we have.”





	Fireflies

It had started small, merely an irritation of the old scars criss-crossing his thigh. Nothing new and nothing to concern himself over, it on occasion twinged but that was the end of it.

Or so Adam had thought, until he woke up one strange morning with a horrific throbbing in his leg. It ached and burned and itched and Adam wanted to reach down and grab, but knew far better than to obey his instincts. He forced his hands on each side of his torso, and took several deep breaths before moving the blanket off his body. 

Looking down, he was surprised to see how tame it looked, some swelling but nothing severe, and nothing that would cause the pain that ricocheted up his hip. Adam supposed it must be nothing with how innocuous it was, and that he simply overworked the flesh the other day. And so he forced himself up and continued on with his day, attempting to ignore the pangs in his leg. 

It took several days of the pain ever increasing for Adam to even fathom going to the ship Medic, reluctant due to his natural hardiness compared to the other sailors. By that point the scar was more a sealed sore than anything. It had grown to a grotesque size, ballooning outwards and throbbing with Adam’s slow heartbeat. The swelling was a putrid red, veining outwards into the healthy flesh and blanching with the smallest amount of pressure.

It was excruciating, and the heat that emanated off it seemed to spread through his bloodstream, flushing his face and fussing with his internal temperature. Adam’s stomach was unsettled, and no matter how little he ate it never seemed to fade. By the time he dared enter the Medic cabin, each step flared a nauseating pain through his body and the rock of the ship made his head swim. He felt terrible, and could not wrap his head around what he had done to deserve this torture. 

Needless to say, the ship medic was unimpressed by his secretive actions, and Adam quickly found himself sequestered to one of the few beds, unable to argue and miserable. As the medic bustled around, collected things too out of the way for him to notice, he laid on the too small cot, and tried to focus on not vomiting the spare pieces of bread he had managed. His heart raced and his chest burned with each inhale, and the shadows seemed to encompass his body.

Everything was too loud and too dark and too bright and it hurt, hurt, hurt. Each shiver from the sudden cold was convulsive, and yet the burning heat made him feel as if he was suffocating. The medic’s cold hands felt like brands on his skin, and Adam could not control the way he arched and jerked away, breath rapid and panicked. The shouting hurt his head, and seemed to make his leg throb even harder, each faint voice overwhelming. It built and built and built until everything seemed to stop. 

When Adam woke up, everything was unnaturally shiny and stretched, as if painted on instead of truly real. The people surrounding his bed had strange, glazed masks and drooling eyes, and the walls were swaying back and forth with the lull of his head. It was all too colorful and nauseating, and Adam couldn’t close his eyes. He could only stare at the doll like men as they moved and murmured, speaking words in a language too complex to understand. 

He could feel rubbery hands moving his body around, un-minding of the weakness in his muscles or the croons of protest he let out. He could only watch, and feel, and wait, before his eyes grew heavy once more and he was finally allowed to blink.

When they opened again, he was floating in a mass of tendrils and dumb shadow, all licking over him and leaving trails of flame and ice. Everything burned and froze and hurt, and he was unable to move. His leg felt numb and agonizing all the same, and it traveled through his bones up into his stomach. 

Fire licked his throat and face and while he could feel his lungs and stomach convulsing, he couldn’t breathe to cough or gag. Everything was excruciating and exhausting, and no matter how hard he twitched or turned he never moved. The beast gripping him wrapped around his wrists and ankles and drew him deeper and deeper in its dark lair, all the while he screamed.   
Adam could only close his fearful eyes once what little light he had vanished, and sink into the depths of his own personal hell.

And suddenly all he could hear was his creator’s soothing voice, talking gently to him and gently cleaning his old stitching. The pain was gone and he was finally warm, no longer burning and drowning in anxiety and its corruptions. This time around everything was a deep black, and he could see no souls around him, but Adam could not bring himself to care much. 

He felt gauze surrounding him and Victor’s sweet voice serenading him to a delicate haze, not quite awake and not quite asleep. He was relaxed and gently supported, no demons to haunt him or old memories to attack. 

Just then a gentle light pierced his cocoon, shining across his face and basking the room in its glow. He looked around at the room he was in, wrapped in warm blankets and watercolor pastels. Victor was far from the original creator he remembered, something soft in his eyes and gentle in his voice, crooning and calming in a way he had never heard. 

He had never felt so welcomed, so comforted by something he craved with every cell of his being. It was soft and gentle, painted on colors leaking around him into a kaleidoscope of shimmering glass, and that same lullaby. 

The last time Adam woke up he was met with the most excruciating pain he had ever felt in his short life. His very heart hurt, twitching rhythmically in his chest and making him choke for air. He was sweat slicked and cold, and when he managed to open his sticky eyes, he saw that ice was surrounding his sprawled form. His entire body ached as if beaten, and his leg sent shocks of icy pain up his body. 

Tears of agony welled up in his vivid eyes, as he bit his lip to prevent screaming. It was completely dark where he lay, the infirmary quiet and subdued compared to the typical activity of the ship. Air wheezed mournfully through his swollen lungs, and as he looked down, terrified to see what had become of his leg, his face crumpled in fear. 

Harsh white bandages were firmly wrapped around his thigh, from crease to knee, and a gory ooze colored a thick line of the gauze. Adam could see toxic yellow surrounding the wet red, and knew something horrendous had happened while he was unconscious.

Still shaky from the strange, twisting dreams that had consumed him, he attempted to calm himself, looking around into the thick shadow and seeing everything’s innocuous appearance. Nothing was out of place, it was the exact same med bay he had come too, however long ago that was. Adam truly had no idea how long he was unconscious, he could only be grateful for it, with the way his leg currently felt his body must’ve been sparring him. 

Moving was completely out of the question, even the slightest shift of his hips had vivid dots blazing in front of his eyes, and he could feel hot blood seep further into the tight bandages binding him. Adam had no choice but to lay there, in too much pain to do more than doze, and too stressed to manage even that properly. 

Hours must’ve passed before anyone walked into the room, though the eternal darkness outside had not changed. It was faint, the plainest creak of door hinges, and whispering footsteps against a wooden floor. He couldn’t make out who it was at first, simply a man of tall stature, until the stranger stepped into the dim candle light that blessed Adam with weak sight.

To his great relief it was Robert, whom he had barely seen in the days leading up to his hospitalization. While it had been purposefully done, Adam knowing too well what would happen if Robert chanced upon his swollen limb, it had been done with considerable regret. Adam would be the first to admit he was quite attached to the other, which played a manipulative part in his attempt at avoiding him. On one hand, Robert would not stress himself over any infection or swelling, but on the other, he would be upset by Adam’s sudden coldness. 

It seemed like a mighty failure in hindsight, now he was simply worried over both, and Adam cursed himself for his foolishness. It seemed every time he tried to be good, it went sideways. He stayed quiet as Robert approached him, simply looking mournfully at his face, wishing to turn back time. The crease between Robert’s eyebrows softened when he saw Adam awake and coherent, and he gently brushed a strand of coiled hair away from his forehead.

“You’re rather dramatic, do you know?” Robert asked, affection making his eyes shine. 

His fingers were gentle against the fever hot skin on Adam’s face, and he nuzzled further into his cool palm. He simply looked up at the other, eyes half lidded from exhaustion, not bothering to respond to him. Robert scoffed, raising a brow, as a comfortable silence stretched between them.

Robert sat next to him on the small bed, settling comfortably against the swell of Adam’s back, and slowly stroked along his side. It was several more hours, Adam finally settling into a deeper sleep, before Robert next spoke.

“Please don’t lie to me anymore, love.” It went unheard in the deep night, but it seemed to have an effect anyway. Adam shifted closer to Robert, curling his long body around him, and mumbled incoherently in his sleep, a small smile breaking on his pale face.

Robert eventually fell into a sleep some time later, burrowed against Adam’s chest, and the poor medic was the soul to find them in such a position. He held his grace, refrained from the comments burning in his throat, and gently shook his captain awake. 

“Hm, what?” Robert grunted, squinting in annoyance.  
“Sir, you’re needed on the deck, and I-” The medic glanced at his patient, wringing his hands.  
“I need to change Adam’s bandages.” With that said the captain’s eyes shot open, and he jolted up, face flushing. He quickly stood, gathered his bearings, and apologized to the man before speed-walking away. It came as no surprise that Adam woke up shortly after his departure, the jostling and yelps of wounded pride pulling him from sleep.

He opened whiskey eyes slowly, sleep tugging gently at his body, and sluggishly looked around. Several more candles had been lit, illuminating the room and the equipment he was gathering up, along with the glass of ale set innocuously at Adam’s bedside. He squinted in suspicion at it, knowing enough first aid to gleam what it might be for. 

‘This will not end well’, Adam decided, dreading what he knew was coming. His body already ached enough, he didn’t need alcohol to make it any worse. 

He twitched when the medic finally came over to his bed, a tray of fresh wrappings and a paste made in preparation in his hands. It was as if the sutures in his leg were connected to his spirits, as they soon joined in a tortuous race with his scurrying heart.

Firm hands gripped his thigh, turned it out and efficiently sliced through the spoiled bandages with a sterile knife. The rancid smell that perforated the room once they fell open made Adam draw back, face grimacing in disgust. He could scarcely believe such a stench could come from him, with how fastidious he was! The medic must’ve seen the look on his face, as he commented under his breath, yet not quite low enough to be misunderstood.

“Perhaps now you will seek help once you know you’re ill.”

The comment, while true, stung, and Adam huffed, crossing his arms and clenching his biceps within his hands. He watched with morbid curiosity as the medic moved the old bandages, tossing them into a nearby bag before staring at his leg. A gaping hole had replaced the swollen wound of before, with angry red skin pulled taut by blood, leaking obnoxiously yellow infection. Adam could see where the infection had initially spread, veins angry and purple from abuse, bulging from the skin and throbbing. 

“I shall have to flush it now, sir.” The even voice of the medic made Adam snap from his zoning stare, and he looked up and gasped when he saw that same glass of rum as before. He wrinkled his nose, upset with himself for being right in such a situation.

“No response then? Very well, bite your shirt if you cannot handle this.”

With that short response, the medic promptly poured a sizable portion of the solution into the wound, making Adam grunt in pain before shoving his hand in his mouth.

“I said your shirt, Adam.” The medic scolded, waiting until he had bunched a portion up obediently before wiping at his thigh with a wet cloth, and draining more. 

He groaned into the wet cloth, grinding his teeth with each rough movement of the medic’s hands, chest heaving from the stinging pain. It made his hands shake, and he attempted to curl them in the sheets underneath him. It seemingly continued forever, each pour sending agony up his femur, and the wet motions following forcing the sickly smell of old blood and rot into his face. 

Eventually the medic deemed it clean enough, and then moved on to poking and prodding with his intrusive fingers, peering into the wound as if it whispered secret. Frankly, Adam thought he looked as much of a fool as Adam himself, but did have to yield to his better expertise. 

“I believe I can sew this up now.” Was murmured in the quiet room, making Adam turn and stare in surprise.

“Really?”

“Really, but you would have to be careful, no walking by yourself for several more days.”  
He scowled at that, irritated with his forced dependence, and the medic straightened up to glare at him.

“As I stated, perhaps you shall learn something from this.”

“Such as what?” Adam hissed, releasing the bedclothes and recrossing his arms.

“Such as our wish to aid you!” 

He started at that, staring at the doctor, who only sighed.  
“We do not wish to hurt you, sir, if only you could see that is farthest from the truth. We care, good man, we simply require you to allow us to prove it.”

It seemed that simple explanation, so obvious now that it was thrown out, took every word from Adam’s mind. He could only stare in shock at the medic, who sighed again, before standing.

“Allow me to gather up my suturing supplies, you are permitted to leave with Robert to your cabin once he arrives.”

And with that, he was gone into another room, leaving Adam to his own thoughts. The silence seemed to bring with it that same candy colored appearance from his nightmares, and he couldn’t help but squirm, mind turning over in his skull. The medic’s words stood out, reminding him of something Robert had told him on his first night in their cabin. 

“You deserve a chance to enjoy life.” He had told him, “Just allow me to aid you in its journey.” 

He had agreed convinced he would never turn the other’s hand away, and yet here he sat, ill and diseased, from his own abject stubbornness. Adam sighed as the doctor entered the room, once again carrying a tray of materials. He had much to work on, and plenty of time to dwell it over.

And so Adam sat, and thought, and tried to block out the pain of needle entering flesh, and thread sewing him up like some sort of rag doll. It was nauseating, and the only thing stopping Adam from reaching down and knocking the thread from the medic’s hand was Robert’s words, asking him to allow help from them. He simply stared at the wall, imagining it melting down like wax into a pool, soupy and congealed. 

Logically Adam knew the sutures were quite literally skin deep, nothing invasive, and yet when he finally looked down at the sewn skin all he could see was the rotting thread that used to hold him together, black from grime and sweat, splitting and causing small scratches around the scalpel slick scars that revealed Adam’s anatomy. He was relieved when the medic wrapped it in tight new wrappings, hiding the trauma from his mind. He felt like his throat had swollen shut, blocking any words that wished to come forth. 

“Robert will attend you shortly, sir.”

He simply nodded, staring at the bandages encasing his thigh. He could feel the medic’s stare through the sheet of hair covering his face, and it made his skin crawl. Much too similar to his own creator, the questioning gaze was, it forced his mind to long nights in the frigid cold, and wet marshes filled with decayed corpses. The anxiety that gripped him only strayed for moments after the medic left for the final time, and he continued to stare at the starched white fabric, unable to tear his eyes off of it. 

Adam knew little of how much time had passed this time, too lost in his own mind, when a soft voice broke his stupor.

“Adam, dearest?”

He looked up, shoulders hunching in shame when he saw Robert’s rugged features compressed from worry.

“Darling, what is wrong? You need not be upset.” 

Adam shrunk more into himself at that, his throat sealed. He wanted to apologize, to scream, to cry, but he couldn’t. 

“Adam? Talk to me, dear.”

His face crumpled, and he furiously shook his head. Frustration made him want to lash out, to shout and snark at the other until he ran out, and Adam supposed that it must’ve been for the best that his voice abandoned him. He stared at his knees, guilt and anger warring.

He tried to take several deep breaths, forcing the overly sensitized emotions in his chest down, and swung his legs over the infirmary bed. He took the hand Robert quietly offered, and stood on shaky legs, gasping when he felt those disgusting stitches pull. The walk to their cabin was terrible, a slow returning fever making Adam’s ears hot, and the pain in his body almost unbearable. His strange joints had stiffened while immobile, and Adam could feel his hips grinding with each step. 

After many an excruciating step, they arrive and Adam is settled onto the bed. He barely feels better, muscles burning from just that minor effort, and curses himself at his own weakness. He knows that it is typical of illness to suck any strength from even the strongest man, but he was no man, and therefore should have been exempted. Except he wasn’t, was he? He had hardheartedly ignored the obvious until it was far too late for a simple fix, and this was his punishment. The medic had been right all along.

With a sigh, those strange hands that had curled in his chest released, and all that remained was that strange, sickly fatigue. He watched as Robert puttered around the room, blushing and looking away once the other began to strip in favor of his nightclothes. He continued staring at the ceiling when he felt the bed dip besides him, and swallowed when a rough hand rested on top of his own, large one.

“Would you privilege me with your voice?”

“If I am capable.”

“Why do you think yourself incapable, my friend?”

Adam finally met his eyes at that inquiry, a sharp eyebrow arched, while he leveled Robert with an unimpressed stare.

“What?”

“I have been a fool, do not attempt a facade of obviousness, it shall not convince either of us.” 

“Adam…”

“You know it as well as I, my dear friend.”

And he did, had figured out exactly why Adam has shrunk in on himself after he had been rushed for sepsis treatment, had understood his reasoning, and yet could not fight the pain it caused him. Everyday was a new development between them, something strong but so delicate, and this avoidance seemingly frayed it to its core. Robert only hoped, harsh as it seemed, that this had showed him that they truly cared. 

“I do indeed,” he sighed at the way Adam’s lips thinned, knowing it must’ve stung coming from him, even if he himself had confessed it.

“But-” Robert continued, raising his hand and squeezing Adam’s shoulder affectionately, “We have come out unscathed, and forevermore knowledgeable.”

The easy look in Robert’s eyes told Adam everything he needed to know. That he was forgiven, that he would be taken care of, that they would continue on, and work through each hurdle together. Robert would not force him to speak on his fears until he was naturally capable, and he would not allow him to drown.

Adam smiled, dark brow furrowing; he finally had a family.

“Indeed we have.”


End file.
